


On Becoming the Marauders

by PadnProng



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Friendships, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts First Year, Hogwarts House Sorting, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, POV James Potter, POV Peter Pettigrew, POV Remus Lupin, POV Sirius Black, Pre-Hogwarts, Pre-Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-05-30 01:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PadnProng/pseuds/PadnProng
Summary: Crossing through the living room, Hope opened the door and was surprised--but not quite as surprised as the average Muggle would be--to find a man with a long white beard and purple robes standing before her. She recognized the wizard robes from her husband, but was surprised at the guest all the same, as she couldn’t fathom who this was or why he was here.





	1. Pre-Hogwarts: Moony

_Moony: "An Invitation"_

~~*~~

Peering over an essay in neat yet boyish handwriting, Hope smiled affectionately as she watched her son work through an especially challenging math problem that was quite above what his traditional grade level would be. Remus’ brow was furrowed in deep concentration as he chewed absentmindedly on his lower lip, his pencil whizzing with calculations, erasing errors, and making adjustments.

Suddenly, he dropped the pencil and held out his work in front of him. Hope watched as his eyes moved critically over the page, checking his work before a self-satisfied grin took over his countenance and his eyes met hers. “I think I got it!” he announced proudly, handing it to his mother to check and stretching his arms over his head from the mental exertion.

Hope took the paper--before the incident, she had been an accountant herself and often crafted her own algebraic equations for Remus to solve. As difficult as it had been to secure an accounting position as a woman, Hope never thought she would end up a stay-at-home mother, educating her son herself. Yet she didn’t feel embittered by it, especially as she watched with gratification how Remus’ intellect and curiosity grew each day. She knew he needed her, and there was something incredibly rewarding about the journey; it pained her only that Remus could not attend a real school where he would surely thrive. As his magical outbursts became more frequent, she worried too how he would be educated in controlling them, as Hope was not a witch herself, and they relied upon Lyall’s Ministry salary. No letter had arrived from Hogwarts when Remus had turned eleven weeks ago now, not that either of them had expected one to. Perhaps they would need to switch roles soon, and she would need to return to work while Lyall stayed with Remus.

“Is it wrong?” Remus asked, reading the sudden concern on his mother’s face. 

She smiled swiftly, “No, sweetheart, it’s perfectly correct, and I did my best to trick you!” she told him. “I think this calls for a break, don’t you?” she asked, rising to make them lunch.

A knock on the front door distracted Hope and Remus, too. Jumping up, Remus was eager and curious to see who it was. 

“I’ll get it, mum!” he announced, but Hope rested a hand on his shoulder before he could move forward.

“Hold on, love. We don’t know who it is,” she said, wearily--they rarely, if ever, entertained visitors anymore. “Let me,” she said, “I’ll be right back,” she assured with a somewhat guilty smile as she read the slight disappointment in her son’s expression. She knew he was starved for company, especially from those his own age. Hope worked diligently to provide Remus with whatever he might want for, but that was something she could never really compensate.

Crossing through the living room, Hope opened the door and was surprised--but not quite as surprised as the average Muggle would be--to find a man with a long white beard and purple robes standing before her. She recognized the wizard robes from her husband, but was surprised at the guest all the same, as she couldn’t fathom who this was or why he was here. 

“Good afternoon,” she greeted hesitantly, her expression weary, “Can I help you?”

Albus Dumbledore slowly turned to face Hope a few moments after she had answered the door.

“Pardon me, I found myself lost in admiration for your little garden here. Are those Night-blooming cereus? So very lovely, and rare, you know.”

Hope eased somewhat as the aged wizard showed an interest in one of her favorite hobbies, “Yes, my husband and I got the seeds from a trip to Hawaii, it was for our honeymoon,” she explained with a smile.

“Ah, where are my manners. You are likely wondering who is this eccentric stranger nosing about in your garden,” Dumbledore said with a playful twinkle to his eye. “I am Albus Dumbledore. The newly appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Hope's smile faded into another look of surprise--she had read about Albus Dumbledore in the _Prophet_ , and Lyall had remarked that he had him as a Transfiguration professor when he was in school and found him to be brilliant. Just from reading of his career, the inventions, the battle with Grindelwald, even Hope felt a little starstruck that he was suddenly at their home.

“Hope Lupin,” she responded after a beat, collecting herself. She extended her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you...I’ve read about your career. It’s quite remarkable,” she complimented. “I’m afraid Lyall isn’t home, though,” she told him, assuming he was here to see him on Ministry business, though Hope couldn’t help but note that no one as high profile as this had ever come to visit. No one from the Ministry had _ever_ visited, in fact. Lyall kept his work strictly separate from his home life.

She bit her lip, considering what to do. He had clearly come all this way, it would be rude to send him right off. Yet she worried about Professor Dumbledore seeing Remus--surely he would have questions about his schooling, and she lived in constant worry of someone from the wizarding world declaring them unfit to care for Remus and taking him off to God knows where. Dumbledore seemed so kind, though she was hesitant to take any risks with her son.

“Perhaps you would like some tea, though?” she offered after a moment.

“I would be honored,” Dumbledore replied, humbled.

He followed Hope into their quaint, yet cozy little home. He glanced around the home, noticing the loving pictures of all three Lupins mounted all about the house. Wearing a small smile, he choose to sit in an armchair. He noticed a magazine, _‘English Home’_ , on the coffee table and flipped through it with interest.

Hope felt apprehensive at still not knowing quite what Dumbledore wanted. She entered the kitchen to put on the tea kettle, where Remus still sat, looking at her eagerly once she entered.

“Who is it, Mum?” he asked curiously.

Hope hesitated--she wasn’t sure that she wanted to tell Remus it was the headmaster of Hogwarts, lest that get his hopes up. Remus was endlessly curious about Hogwarts, reading as much as he could about the school’s history and curriculum, asking his father endless questions. Remus seemed to accept that he would not be attending, but that hadn’t dampened his interest in the school, and she rather suspected he still clung to the notion that his letter might still be coming.

“Someone for your father. I believe they might work together,” she said vaguely, putting the kettle on.

“Really?” Remus said excitedly, walking over to her. “Another wizard?” he asked quietly, “Can I meet them?”

Hope frowned, “Remus, I don’t know…”

His expression dimmed instantly, though he attempted to regather it and appear understanding, “It’s okay, mum...I know they might not...you know. Like me,” Remus admitted, and it nearly broke Hope’s heart. They rarely talked about how the outside world perceived people like Remus, though it was the constant elephant in the room. Hope carefully guarded Remus from this prejudice, sheltering him completely and even censoring certain _Prophet_ articles by placing them right into the rubbish bin.

“Remus, _of course_ he would like you. Anyone would like you, it’s just--” Hope paused. How could she explain to him that she was worried he might take him from her without scaring the boy who was already so over-burdened?

“Really, mum,” he said, smiling, “I understand.”

The kettle whistled. Hope frowned. “Give me a moment, dear…” she said and poured three cups of tea, handing one to Remus.

Re-entering the sitting room, Hope feigned a smile, though feared the strain and guilt on her face was apparent. “There you are,” she said, handing a cup to Dumbledore.

“Ah, so very kind of you,” Dumbledore declared, putting down his reading material to relieve Hope of the cup of tea.

He sipped idly for a few moments before glancing at Hope. He asked the question before she could.

“Will Remus be joining us?” A small trace of a smile could be seen from behind the tea cup.

Hope looked alarmed that Dumbledore already knew his name, “Ah…” she began, wishing to seem as natural as possible, but not knowing quite how to accomplish that. She took a gulp of tea to stall. “Did Lyall tell you about Remus?” she asked. “I’m just...curious how you already know his name,” she admitted with a glance to the doorway. “I suppose...I mean, if you would like to.”

Dumbledore watched Hope, unfazed by her discomfort. “It occurs to me now that the intentions of my visit were not made clear. Must have slipped my mind,” he began pleasantly. “I am here to speak with Remus Lupin. That is if you approve, of course.”

He glanced at the doorway, noticing Remus discretely watching. He winked swiftly in response before turning back to Hope.

Hope hesitated, glancing over at Remus, too, knowing it would be difficult to shield him when he so obviously was going to hear everything anyway. 

“Well...alright,” she said nervously, meeting Remus’ eye from across the room. “Remus, dear? Would you join us, please?” she asked. Remus entered eagerly, peering curiously over at Dumbledore as he took a seat beside his mother, glancing at her; he felt a twinge of nervousness at seeing her obvious anxiety, then he looked back over at the purple-clad wizard.

“Hi,” Remus greeted, finally.

“Hello, Remus,” Dumbledore smiled, standing up and bowing his head slightly in greeting.

“Would you care to play a game of gobstones?” He asked, and then went on, “Alas, it’s quite out of fashion now and so you may not know how to play. I once competed in an international tournament, for which I am still mocked,” Dumbledore explained as he procured the wooden gobstones case from deep in his purple robes.

He proceeded to set up the board on the coffee table without waiting for a response for Remus. The gobstones, which closely resembled marbles were set on the board--Fifteen for himself and fifteen for Remus. 

“I love gobstones!” Remus told him--he was familiar with all nature of wizarding and Muggle board games, being one of his primary modes of entertainment. Remus deftly moved the marbles across the board, eventually taking a point from Dumbledore, which caused a foul-smelling liquid to squirt in the professor’s face. Remus let out a cautious laugh as even Hope smiled, gradually feeling some measure of trust as she watched Dumbledore’s kindness towards her son.

Dumbledore laughed genuinely whenever the liquid squirted at either himself or Remus. In the end, Remus conquered his final gobstone, leaving Remus the winner. 

“You are quite the accomplished opponent!” Dumbledore smiled, his sharp blue eyes searing into Remus' soul. “Good game, Mr. Lupin,” he beamed, shaking Remus’ hand enthusiastically. 

Dumbledore expanded his attention to include Hope. “Now I would like to discuss a rather important matter with all of the Lupins present. I would like to wait for your husband. He should be arriving in…” 

He pulled a golden pocket watch from his sleeve and adjusted his half-moon glasses to view it.

“Ah, yes. Three...two...one…”

And there was a crack in the fireplace just after Dumbledore counted to one. Lyall emerged from the cramped space, carefully brushing floo powder and soot off his robes. Remus looked in amazement between his father and Dumbledore.

“Wow!” he burst. “You were right!” Remus grinned, looking at Dumbledore. Hope, too, looked perplexed--it was not a spell she was familiar with.

Lyall, straightening, smiled at Remus, then turned towards who he was speaking to, expecting to see only his wife, but was stunned to see Albus Dumbledore sitting in their living room, wiping gobstone muck from his face.

“Professor Dumbledore!” Lyall greeted in amazement, “How--how are you?” he asked, not quite believing his eyes. “What brings you here?” 

Hope’s brows drew in, surprised that her husband had not, in fact, been expecting him. She turned towards Dumbledore herself.

Dumbledore stood up and shook Lyall’s soot-covered hand.

“I came to meet your son, who happens to be a superb godstone player,” he began, swiftly sending Remus a look of warm respect. 

“Other than drinking your tea and reading your magazines I’ve also come to speak with all three of you on an important proposition. As headmaster of Hogwarts the decision to extend Hogwarts attendance invitations lies in me. I am here to extend one such invitation to Remus,”

His gaze shifted slowly from Lyall and Hope and landed squarely on Remus.

Remus’ eyes widened; he could hardly believe what Dumbledore just said. His chest swelled with excitement as he played the words over again in his mind, affirming that he had heard him correctly. Remus had long ago resigned Hogwarts to nothing more than a dream--he understood why he’d never be able to attend, but it hadn’t stopped him from wanting it.

“Really?” Remus asked in disbelief, but the hope and excitement was tangible in his voice and expression.

His parents looked between Dumbledore and each other equally stunned. Looking pointedly at Hope for a long moment, Lyall spoke up.

“Professor Dumbledore…” he started, and Remus turned anxiously towards his father to see what he thought. “I can’t say--I’m not sure I can ever really express how much this means to us,” he began, catching Remus’ eye--his son’s hopeful grin made it hard to continue, but he knew it was up to Hope and himself to ask the difficult questions. He had to assume that Dumbledore knew about Remus’ condition, that that was why he had visited personally. “But how...I mean, how could you ensure that Remus would be safe and…welcome?” he asked, then paused, “And that the other children--that they would also be…” Lyall’s jaw tightened, again looking at Remus whose grin had diminished. “My son--” he began, his throat catching to his great embarrassment. 

Hope reached across the couch, taking her husband’s hand. She continued for him, “He is the kindest, gentlest boy I think any parent could hope for. Remus would never, _never_ willingly hurt another...but how could you ensure there was not...an accident?” Hope continued after a great struggle. She knew her son was not a danger, and refused to refer to him as such, but realistically, she knew certain...precautions would need to be taken.

Remus looked down, embarrassed. 

Dumbledore listened intently, nodding gently to comfort them. When Lyall could no longer go on, he politely took his turn to speak up.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, I have known about the truly terrible incident that befell Remus for quite some time now. The previous Headmaster may have had other opinions on this matter, but when I was appointed, I came to the firm conclusion that nothing should keep Remus Lupin from being a part of our school--should he choose to accept, of course.”

“I have taken great lengths to ensure the safety of both Remus and the entire study body. A secure location has been set up in Hogsmeade village where Remus will safely visit once a month. To further his safety and secure his placement in the school, I strongly advise that Remus’ affliction be kept a secret from everyone.” His eyes fixed pointedly at Remus for this last bit, his expression far more serious.

“Complete discretion is of the utmost importance, for your own safety,” he stressed.

“You've--you’ve already done all this for Remus?” Hope asked, amazed, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. She would do anything for Remus herself, but she did not expect the rest of the world to be so kind.

“Everything is ready for him,” Dumbledore smiled sympathetically.

Both Lyall and Hope turned to their son, who looked equally stunned, but in a more sober way than before, as he began to realize this was real--thought through and planned by none other than _Albus Dumbledore_.

He swallowed, looking between Dumbledore and his parents, before he settled on their familiar gaze, “I want to go,” he said, something almost desperate in his voice.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together triumphantly and stood up abruptly. 

“Then it is settled!” He declared, taking Remus’ parents disbelief as consent. “I look forward to seeing you on September the first, Mr. Lupin. Enjoy the remainder of your summer, young man,” he said patting Remus on the shoulder.

“Now I must be off! I thank you again for your gracious hospitality, Hope. And best of luck on the poltergeist outbreak in Cork, Lyall,” he shook both of their hands feverishly then vanished before any of them had even an instant to respond.

Hope and Lyall shook his hands, dazed. Hope was just about to thank him, struggling to find words to express the depth of her gratitude, when suddenly he was gone.

She looked at Remus; while she could see some apprehension in his expression, he looked happier than she had seen him in a very long time. Hope felt the tears she'd been restraining fall down her cheeks.

Remus frowned, “Don't cry, mum. I'll write every day, and I'll come home for every break.”

Hope pulled Remus in for a tight hug, crying a little more before taking a shaky breath. She pulled back and cupped her son's face.

“It isn't that, though you better,” she said, flashing a watery smile. “I'm just...I'm so happy for you,” she told

Lyall pulled Remus into a tight hug, his eyes still holding a few tears. He then released him a bit and surveyed his son’s face. Lyall had never forgiven himself for bringing this life upon his child. He knew how lonely Remus had been, how badly he craved a normal life. For the first time since the attack, Lyall found a spark of hope. Perhaps Remus could live a happy life, after all.

“I love you, Remus. You’ll be great,” he said firmly, his face cracking into a smile.


	2. Pre-Hogwarts: Wormtail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turning to the right, Evan noticed a portly blonde boy looking at the same line of broomsticks.
> 
> Evan smirked--finally, entertainment had found him.

_Wormtail: "A Superhero"_

~~*~~

Peter, dearest! Come down for breakfast, my kitten!”

As if a fuse had been lit, Peter emitted a gasp, instantly waking, and rolled himself out of bed. His heavy footsteps thundered across his bedroom, down the staircase, and finally into the cramped kitchen. 

When he arrived he beheld a true breakfast feast--steaming bacon, eggs, sausage, tea _and_ coffee.

Although thrilled by the glorious display, Peter knew breakfasts like these came with unsavory news. His hunger outweighed his suspicion, though, and he began to fill a plate with food.

His mother returned from the pantry with a plate of scones. She was a very petite woman, in stark contrast to Peter. Her dusty blond hair was styled in uncomfortably tight curls and she wore an equally tight smile. She placed the scones on an empty section of the table and stroked her son’s fine hair.

“Good morning, my dove,” she cooed. Peter momentarily glanced up from his feast and flashed her a bacon-and-egg smile.  
“Morning, mum. What’s with all this food? We don’t have another hair appointment, do we?” he groaned.

Mrs. Pettigrew laughed. “Nothing gets past you, bunny. But no dear, not today. That’s next week,” she explained, cleaning his grease-covered face with a handkerchief from her apron pocket. 

“Today we must go to Diagon alley to gather your school supplies. Now, there are going to be a lot of people there and I know how nervous you get in crowds--but I’ll be right by your side the entire time, pumpkin,” she assured him, anxiously stroking his hair. “You’re a very brave boy.”

“Right…” Peter replied absentmindedly, dirtying his face once more as he went for a third helping.

“We won’t be long. We’ll follow the list to the T and then I’ll whip you up a nice lunch, all right?”

“Mhm…”

Mrs. Pettigrew headed over to the sink where she anxiously began to scrub clean plates (she always preferred to clean herself, magic just wasn’t as precise.) She stared out the window as she worked, gazing out at the countryside with concern evidenced by her pursed lips.

Mr. Pettigrew had died from a freak accident at the Owl post office when Peter was a toddler. Ever since, Mrs. Pettigrew had vowed to protect Peter completely from all harm. She wanted him to have a warm and comfortable life, and for eleven years she had been able to control that (even when it meant switching Peter’s school six times).

She nearly had a heart attack when Peter received his Hogwarts letter (secretly hoping that he did not possess magical abilities). And now there were just a few weeks left until he would leave her side and go off to Hogwarts.

She turned and watched her son finish up the last piece of sausage.

 _’He’s a strong boy’_ , she reminded herself. _’He can take care of himself. And if he can’t I’ll go right up to that school and take him safely back home.’_

~~*~~

Evan Rosier was bored and making a show of it--he didn’t want anyone to mistake him for one of those wide-eyed, awestruck mudbloods, like that daft redhead girl he saw at Flourish and Blotts. A trip to Diagon Alley was nothing special for Evan, whose family often frequented not just this magical shopping district, but traveled to many better ones around the world. Even if this _was_ his big Hogwarts shopping trip, Evan did not want to seem over enthused and, thus, slipped into a real lethargy in Quality Quidditch Supplies.

He surveyed a new, top of the line broomstick with a sour expression, remembering that first years weren’t allowed broomsticks. 

Turning to the right, Evan noticed a portly blonde boy looking at the same line of broomsticks.

Evan smirked--finally, entertainment had found him.

“Nice isn’t it?” Evan asked innocently enough, smiling even, “Unfortunately, I heard they don’t make them for people over fourteen stones.”

Peter had been gazing at the sleek, polished broomstick with an expression of wonderment glued to his cheery round face. His mother had never let him go this close to a broomstick before. Even the one’s for kids that barely let you fly three feet from the ground.

He had been so lost in the glory before him that he had not even noticed that there was another boy adjacent to him.

Peter turned and listened to the boy, returning his smile. 

By the end of the boy’s statement, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Er, well, maybe they can buy two?” Peter eventually suggested with a vague smile, not catching the insult. 

Evan sneered, “That doesn’t even make any bloody sense, you twit,” he spat.

Peter frowned a bit in response but suddenly his eyes fell upon a book the boy was carrying : _‘Standard book of spells grade 1_. His eyes instantly swelled in size and his face lit up pink.

“Are you heading off to Hogwarts too?” Peter asked excitedly. “I am! My name is Peter Pettigrew. That’s my mum over there,” he said, pointing to the counter where his mother was purchasing all of the flying safety equipment the shop had in stock.

Peter’s excitement was then met with a vicious smirk, “I am,” he confirmed lifting his chin, “Though I doubt we’ll see much of each other--or at least, I bet you’ll _hope_ we don’t.”

Peter was forced to acknowledge this threat, his ears turned pink from shame and he cast his eyes downward onto his trainers.

A loud snort emitted from the other side of the aisle. James, who’d been feigning interest in the snitches, had really been eavesdropping the whole time.

“If you tried a little harder at sounding all tough, you might actually accomplish it one day,” James remarked evenly, snitch still in his palm. As if reflecting further, James frowned, “But you were already trying pretty damn hard, weren’t you?”

Evan’s twisted smirk vanished the moment his eyes fell upon this new boy. Several Hogwarts students in the shop had been gleefully watching Evans pick on the heavy blond boy, but now their attention turned to James, rapt.

Evan noticed the shift in their attention. And his cockiness had caught the attention of several more shoppers. He shifted his weight uncomfortably

Peter’s eyes bounced up from his trainers and landed square on James, looking at him as if he were some kind of rare magical creature.

“This isn’t any of _your_ business, _four eyes_ ,” he hissed with a self-satisfied grin. He looked around to see if his viewers appreciated his cleverness, which went unmet. Unfortunately most of his friends were still purchasing their textbooks in Flourish and Blotts. He should have been patient and waited with them.

Instead of bristling at the gibe, James laughed out loud, “Four eyes? Really?” he questioned after the laugh subsided, raising an eyebrow, “I mean, I could kind of tell you were bad at this, but I didn’t think you were _that_ bad.”

Evan’s face turned red. What’s worse, he could hear the not-so-subtle listeners sniggering at him as they studiously leafed through textbooks on the most efficacious broomstick care techniques or intensely stared at bottles of quaffle polish.

“You’re a nobody,” he grumbled at James, trying to keep his voice down. “Try standing up for your _girlfriend_ like this at Hogwarts. We’ll see how that turns out.”

Before James could destroy him about with another response, Evan turned on his heel and fled the shop. Several students dropped their guise to watch him exit from the window.

Several moments after he was gone, Peter turned away from the door and locked his eyes onto James once more.

“Wow…” he said, still in a daze. “Er...T--thank you…?” he said with uncertainty. 

James lifted a shoulder nonchalantly, but his smile was earnest, “It was nothing,” James assured, “Can’t let purist twats like that run amok or they’ll ruin Hogwarts for the rest of us. He’ll get what’s coming to him if he really wants to see how _that_ will turn out.”

Peter gave James an oversized, giddy smile. “Yeah, right... He sure will,” he replied vaguely with an overly-enthusiastic nod, though it was clear he wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. 

Peter had heard about what muggles called _Superheros_. He wondered if James could be one of them.

“I’m James, by the way,” he said, “So you are just starting Hogwarts then? Me, too.”

“I...Yes...I am,” Peter stuttered, suddenly feeling like he was in the presence of a celebrity. “I am...Peter.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter,” James says, letting the snitch go as he does and without even taking his eyes off Peter to focus on it, he catches it again just before it has a chance to leave his peripheral. 

Peter gasped as he watched the catch as if James had just performed a magic trick.

“How did you do that?” he asked, his mouth agape. “Do you play quidditch? I’ve never seen a real match, my mum says they are too rowdy for little boys. I’ve never even been on a broomstick.”

James couldn’t help but grin--if he was being honest with himself, James could see how Peter was prime material for bullying. Who admitted that their mum thought Quidditch was too rowdy for _little boys_? Still, there was something about this kid James kind of liked--maybe he just didn’t want to stoop to Rosier’s level...or maybe it was the ego boost. Possibly both. Regardless, James chose not to acknowledge that unfortunate admission.

He shrugged, “Good reflexes, I guess. And practice, you sorta get used to how a snitch moves the more you play with one,” he said, smiling some more, energized by talking about Quidditch. “My parents have taken me to loads of games and he lets me fly with him. Sometimes we kind of play, but we usually don’t have enough people for a full game. And my dad’s, well...he’s kind of old, so it’s not _really_ like playing Quidditch, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Wow,” Peter replied, appearing almost windblown. “Maybe you could teach me! Then we could play together,” he suggested, his smile becoming sheepish.

“I’d like that!” James said and meant it. The truth was, his parents didn’t know many people with young kids, and he was eager to start making some real friends. Peter was possibly kind of a nerd, but between him and Rosier, James would take Peter anyday. 

Peter beamed as if Christmas had come early. He’d had some friends as a kid, if his mom liked them, but James was by far the coolest friend he ever had. Peter felt cool just standing adjacent to him.

“Peaches?” Mrs. Pettigrew called from across the shop. “Come and try on these thigh paddings, they’re supposed to help with chafing.”

“Coming, mum!’ Peter replied, then turned back to James. 

“I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you at school!” he said with a smile. “Thanks again for sticking up for me.”

“Anytime,” James smiled.


	3. Pre-Hogwarts: Padfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walburga’s smile from being worshipped by her sister-in-law vanished when her cold eyes fell upon The Potters. She had been severely disappointed to learn that they had somehow managed to conceive an offspring. _The House of Black_ had been so very close to having that stain removed permanently. 
> 
> And it was almost as if Euphemia intentionally sought to slight Walburga by giving birth not very long after Sirius was born.
> 
> The last thing her wayward heir needed was a blood traitorous Potter corrupting him.

_Padfoot: "House of Mirth"_

~~*~~

Sirius Black was in a particularly foul mood. Not that his mood often improved, truth be told, but this one was especially crabby. He stood on a red velvet footstool at the center of the red velvet-asphyxiated, _Twillfitt and Tattings_ : The obscenely overpriced dress shop in south Diagon alley that catered primarily to the supremely vain and loathsome of Wizarding-kind; like his mother, for instance.

Sirius was being fitted for his Hogwarts robes, which were exactly the same wherever purchased. Mrs. Black’s true motives in dragging Sirius there were: a. To be seen entering the shop by both friends and enemies alike and b. So she could purchase an unnecessary and outrageously expensive outfit to be seen by both friends and enemies alike. Sirius was only a prop, really. 

His presence was only begrudgingly agreed upon because his mother refused to take him to Ollivander’s until he donned Wizarding attire fit for _the heir to the house of Black._

“Now simply stretch out your arms, my darling handsome boy. We must make sure you scoot off to Hogwarts looking truly _pristine!_ ” Crooned the dresser, who wore a massive fuschia headdress attached to which were three dead doves. 

"The school girls will just _drop dead_ when they see you! I'm sure of it!" 

“You mean just like those birds did when they caught sight of that headdress?” Sirius asked, deadpan.

The dresser's face would have been drained of color from the shock had it not been caked in several layers of bronzy foundation. 

“It...It’s from _Paris_ (she pronounced it ‘Pa-rhee’). Exclusive high fashion...A piece from next summer's collection, even…” 

“Ah, magnifique! Va te faire foutre*,” Sirius replied cheerfully with a smile.

The dresser stared at him in bafflement, not actually knowing a lick of french. She elected to smile and nod in response.

Luckily for her, at that moment Mrs. Black emerged from her dressing room as if she was the prima donna of an opera. She wore Black Bear fur dress robes and had a martini in hand.

The dresser appeared relieved to abandon Sirius’ side and immediately fluttered over to Mrs. Black, gasping with astonishment and going on about how _pristine_ she looked ( _‘Must be her favorite adjective,’_ thought Sirius. _‘That or the headdress is constricting her blood flow.’_ )

Unluckily for Sirius, a little bell chimed indicating that a new patron had entered the shop.

 _”Walburga!_ , You look simply _divine_. Truly _divine_.”

It was unmistakably the voice of Sirius’ aunt Druella. Groaning in misery, he turned his head just enough to see that all three of her daughters had accompanied her.

Druella kissed both of Walburga’s cheeks, then pinched Sirius’--perhaps a little harder than was truly affectionate, “Sirius, darling, don’t you look dashing. A future Slytherin prefect in the making, I’m sure,” she simpered. 

Sirius rolled his eyes automatically and glared at her darkly with blatant detest. He had decided that if for whatever ungodly reason he _was_ sorted into Slytherin he would fake his death and live out his days with the mountain trolls. They were far more civil company. He turned and looked at Andromeda, nonverbally expressing his suffering with a sigh.

Andromeda flashed Sirius a sympathetic smile from over her mother’s shoulder, while Narcissa and Bellatrix were all sweet smiles; Narcissa’s dimmed once her eyes settled on Sirius, while Bellatrix’s morphed into a rather unsettling smirk. 

Druella’s attention shifted back to Walburga, all interest in Sirius gone. “I heard a most intriguing bit of gossip. Do you know who that is over there?” she asked, nodding her head in the direction of an older couple and a young boy across the room. 

Walburga’s smile from being worshipped by her sister-in-law vanished when her cold eyes fell upon The Potters. She had been severely disappointed to learn that they had somehow managed to conceive an offspring. _The House of Black_ had been so very close to having that stain removed permanently. 

And it was almost as if Euphemia intentionally sought to slight Walburga by giving birth not very long after Sirius was born.

The last thing her wayward heir needed was a blood traitorous Potter corrupting him.

“Oh, why, those are the Potters!” The dresser announced, craving to be included in this conversation. Walburga and Druella shot her nasty glares.

“Get out,” Walburga declared to the dresser, who instantly obliged. 

“We’re leaving!" She huffed and then finished her drink. "Clearly this shop no longer has the _class_ it once possessed. The children shouldn’t be subjected to such filth. Who will they let in next? Ghouls? Criminals? or worse-- _Muggles_? ” Walburga stated, loudly.

Andromeda shifted her weight uncomfortably as she watched on with a frown--her discomfort was not merely due to how rude they were towards the Potters, though that was certainly part of it. The Potters were technically pureblood, as far as anyone seemed to know, and if this was how her mother and aunt treated _them_ , she could only imagine how they would react to Ted. She bit her lip at the thought, looking between her family--Andromeda knew the secrecy hurt him, but the consequences still scared her too much.

The young boy looked over in their direction, his eyebrows drawn in with a look of confusion tinted with indignation. His mother, meanwhile, merely lifted her eyes in their direction, then gave them a pointed role.

“Ah, Walburga, always so dramatic,” she droned from where she sat on a plush couch, “But by all means, the door is right here,” Euphemia indicated gesturing towards the exit as Fleamont watched on with the expression of someone who was too grown to care what others thought. He did, however, look with concern up at his son, whose new dress robes were still magically mending themselves. James looked aghast, having never heard someone speak to his parents like that. They usually commanded respect.

Sirius witnessed this exchange, instantly falling in love with Mr. and Mrs. Potter.

“COME, SIRIUS,” Walburga barked, still glaring at Euphemia.

“I can’t leave, mother,” Sirius replied cooly, enjoying this moment. “I'd be arrested for stealing. Wouldn’t want to tarnish the name of Black again,” he smirked.

Walburga’s face suddenly became the color of a beet. Her melodramatic exit was now sullied. Usually this was followed up with banshee screams. However, being publicly humiliated had humbled her. She avoided everyone’s gaze as she tilted her nose skyward and stormed into the back of the shop to pay for their items of clothing.

Before Druella could grab him, Sirius slipped past her and hurried towards the Potters. He approached the son with impressively unruly black hair and glasses and his two parents (the father had equally impressive unruly black hair.) 

“Take me with you!” he pleaded, gesturing towards his aunt and her two younger daughters who were all grumbling insults about blood traitors and slime.

All three Potters grinned a bit in amusement.

“I’m afraid I think that’s what they call kidnapping,” Euphemia remarked, “But it looks as though you are starting Hogwarts? So is James,” she said.

James looked down at Sirius for a moment, but was distracted by the chorus of insults. He zeroed in on the older black haired girl. 

“You better be careful that your face doesn’t stick like that,” he said. “Oh, wait, I think it already has.”

Andromeda gave out an involuntary snort at the gibe, but Fleamont reprimanded his son with a firm, “James.”

“They’re not worth it,” Euphemia added.

Sirius eyed James with admiration. “She was born that way, anyway,” he sniggered. And then the entire shop and street beyond were filled with an ear splitting sound:

“SIRIUS BLACK GET OVER HERE THIS INSTANT. DARE YOU DISGRACE ME AGAIN AND YOU WILL BE HOME SCHOOLED FOR ALL ETERNITY. ELEVEN YEARS OF SLAVING AS A MOTHER AND TREACHERY IS WHAT IS RETURNED TO ME. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE SUCH AN UNGRATEFUL SWINE OF A SON."

Walburga Black had returned.

The Potters stared in bewilderment at Walburga. They had never spoken to James in such a way.

“Is that really necessary?” Euphemia asked indignantly.

Sirius sighed, unfazed, and turned to James. 

“See you at school, then?”

“I guess so,” James said, a bit dazed.

He sulked towards the exit, giving Bellatrix and Narcissa the finger as he passed in front of them. He looked back at the Potters and mouthed: _'Save me'_ before being shepherded out by his mother.

Druella harrumphed once they were out of the store, “Those _Potters_ ,” she spat in disgust. “They think just because they have money that everyone should _worship_ them,” she sneered, 

“Well, let me tell you, money can’t be _class_.”

“So true,” Sirius agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Translation= "Magnificent! Go fuck yourself."


	4. Pre-Hogwarts: Prongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleamont bit his lip before opening the door to his son’s room. He still wasn’t entirely certain that he should be doing this--it was a Potter tradition, of course, to pass down the invisibility cloak to the first born, but he doubted any of the past Potters were quite like James.

_Prongs: "The Potter Secret"_

~~*~~

“Take that!” James boomed to no one in particular--to no one at all, actually, since he was complete alone in his bedroom, waving his new wand around in outlandish moves that he assumed was what dueling looked like. After promising his parents not to touch it, James was waving and jabbing and doding over his bed with such great gusto that multi-colored sparks were shooting out in every direction from his new wand. Fortunately, he couldn’t do much more than that.

With knock at the door and a, “James?” James immediately snapped into an upright, almost martial-esque position with his wand hidden riggedly behind his back.

“Er--yes? Come in?” 

Fleamont bit his lip before opening the door to his son’s room. He still wasn’t entirely certain that he should be doing this--it was a Potter tradition, of course, to pass down the invisibility cloak to the first born, but he doubted any of the past Potters were quite like James.

He had been reflecting a lot recently over his own use of the cloak. Late nights to the kitchen, sneaking out to parties at the Quidditch pitch--the cloak brought him some of the best times of his life, but Fleamont had never been nearly as...rambunctious...as James. Poor Mrs. Fister from three houses down still croaked like a bull frog spontaneously in mid-sentence. She’d been croaking for nearly a week now. She wasn’t the the most pleasant of people, granted, and Fleamont hadn’t truly been overly upset when he heard.

Yes, James had always had a knack for finding his way into trouble--nothing serious, of course, but he couldn’t imagine that Minerva McGonagall would appreciate having her slippers replaced with two catfish. 

_’He’s a good boy’_ , Fleamont reminded himself as he entered the room and immediately noticed the look on James’s face. In no time at all his eyes traveled to James’ hands hidden behind his back.

“Hand it over,” Fleamont said lazily with the trace of a small smile, hand outstretched. He had eleven years of training in James Potter mischief--he was now a sensei in the art.

James hesitated, turning his wand around in his fingers, trying to think of a way to get out of this. Seeing no escape route, James signed dramatically and handed his wand to his dad, thrusting it out in front of him as if he was being compelled.

“I was just _playing_ ,” he insisted.

“Mhm,” Fleamont replied with his eyebrow raised, unconvinced as he slipped James’ new wand into the pockets of his deep blue robes.

“It’s very dangerous to play with wands before you learn how to wield one,” Fleamont lectured for the umpteenth time.

This act of defiance might have lead Fleamont to further question his next move, but he could still recall the first time he held his wand--all those years ago. Reliving that with James was one of the happiest moments of his life. 

He couldn’t blame him for wanting his wand back at his side.

“Now, James,” he began, clearing his throat as he took a seat on the edge of James’ bed. The quilt had the symbols for every UK Quidditch team knitted into it--a birthday gift from James’ mother three years back.

“There’s something I would like to talk to you about,” Fleamont continued carefully, patting the space on the bed beside him.

“I know you’re very excited to go to Hogwarts--as you should be--and I also know you’ve promised your mother hundreds of times that you’ll stay out of trouble,” he looked into James’ hazel eyes, ones that mirrored his own.

“And we both know that’s a load of dung,” he said, cracking a grin.

“I’m sure you’ll break that promise moments after you hop onto the train,” Fleamont’s grin widened.

“But I do want you to promise me something,” his expression became more serious. “Remember the difference between good fun and real, _serious_ trouble. Hogwarts will be the very best time of your life, but it can also be dangerous.”

“Can you promise me that you’ll be careful?”

There was a part of James that thought this was going to be The Talk about the pygmy puffs  
and the hippogriffs--needles to say, he was relieved to find it wasn’t, since James still largely believed that girls had cooties. In fact, James even cracked a smile and laughed, feeling like his dad was letting him in on a secret. 

He considered the question--somehow, it felt like a big promise, but James supposed he _would_ prefer some good fun to serious trouble.

“I promise,” James said, finally.

Fleamont nodded in response, satisfied.

“Then I have something for you,” he explained and then lifted his wand, flicked it, and stated a swift: “accio chest,”

A small oak chest with large brass hinges floated into the room. Fleamont scooted over so that it fit between him and James.

“This has been in our family for _ages and ages_ ,” he explained, flicking his wand again to open the chest.

“Take a look,” he instructed James excitedly.

Curiosity peaked, James peered into the chest and saw--well, at first it was hard to see _anything_ , and so he reached inside and was surprised when his fingers touched a light, almost watery material. Squinting, James noticed that there _was_ some type of fabric in there, it was just camouflaging with the rest of the chest. 

James pulled it out carefully, it was--the strangest cloak he had ever scene. James couldn’t figure out what color it was--it seemed to be made up of many and none--and he also had no idea what material it was made out of. 

It also seemed entirely too large for me.

“It’s a...cloak?” James asked, uncertainly--he didn’t want to let his dad down, but we also didn’t really know what to make of this.

Fleamont chuckled at James’ reaction. He had a similar one when his father presented it to him.

“It is,” he stated evasively. “Put it on then take a look in the mirror,” he grinned.

“Err….seems a little big,” James remarked, but obliged his dad, sweeping the cloak around him--it moved in an unnaturally riple-like way.

Turning to the mirror, James’ jaw dropped--he was a floating head, no body in sight. 

“How’s it doing this?!” he asked, turning sharply towards his father. Thinking for a moment, his eyes widened even further, “Wait...is this an _invisibility cloak_ he asked, even knowing it clearly was. 

Fleamont was laughing heartily.

“Indeed it is!” he declared and stood next to James’ floating head in the mirror.

“It’s a family secret!” he explained. “We’ve had it in the family for generations. We have a tradition that it be passed down to the first born child before they go to school.”

He smiled down at James with pride, putting a hand on his invisible shoulder. “So now I pass it on to you, son. The cloak is all yours now.”

As Fleamont spoke, James indulged in spinning around in the cloak and watching it swirl in its float-y, liquid-y way. In the mirror, it just looked like James’ head was spinning around in mid-air like some kind of perverse spinning top.

James stilled when his father rested his hand on his shoulder, reflecting on the importance of this. This cloak was something that had been passed on to everyone in his family--he felt weirdly connected to them all.

“This is brilliant, Dad, thanks!” James beamed, reluctant to take the cloak off in spite of how weird he must look. His head was practically swimming with all the mischief he could get up to in Hogwarts with this thing. 

Looking closely at the expression on his dad’s face, James had a feeling he wasn’t the only one--he asked, “What’s the most wicked thing you ever did with this?”

Fleamont sighed, basking in the nostalgia and then gave James a coy smile.

“We’ll swap stories one day, when you’re older. But let’s just say that a certain purist Slytherin still recalls a nightmare where they saw me and my friends’ heads on the floor singing ‘Hoggy Warty Hogwarts.’” Fleamont winked at James and ruffled his hair affectionately. 

“Just remember your promise,” he advised, raising his brow again.

James laughed readily at the image, suddenly filled with excitement about the new friends he’d make and the adventures they would have.

Smiling, he said, “I will.”


	5. The Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Platform nine and three quarters was exactly as it had been when Lyall was a student, and yet it couldn’t be anymore different. Remus had been kept away from other children for so long to protect him. The children who did meet Remus had never been very kind to him. He had never been an ordinary child--Lyall loved who Remus was deeply, but other children had not felt the same.

The platform was bustling around the Lupins; boisterous reunions between friends, a few tearful goodbyes from parents and younger siblings, and many squawking owls and hissing cats. 

Hope kept a firm grasp on her son’s hand--as happy as she was for Remus, she found herself reluctant to let go. 

Remus, for his part, was also reticent to let go--even if it made him feel slightly embarrassed to admit that. This was the most he’d ever been around people his own age in as long as he could remember, and it was at once exciting and entirely nerve-wracking. 

Dutifully adjacent to Remus, Lyall wheeled along a rickety trolley carrying an aged and battered old trunk. His eyes darted nervously from one family to the next. It was a blur of hugs and swishing robes, and screeching teenagers; all along with the occasional hiss as billowing smoke emitted from the Hogwarts express’ steam pipe. 

Platform nine and three quarters was exactly as it had been when Lyall was a student, and yet it couldn’t be anymore different. Remus had been kept away from other children for so long to protect him. The children who did meet Remus had never been very kind to him. He had never been an ordinary child--Lyall loved who Remus was deeply, but other children had not felt the same.

After leading his little family to a clearing close to the phoenix-red train, Lyall bent a knee to reach Remus’ height. He surveyed Remus’ anxious little face with a reassuring smile and ran his hand playfully through Remus’ thick mop of hair.

“It alright to be nervous,” Lyall assured him, resting his hands on Remus’ small shoulders.

“I was nervous too, my first time” he explained. “In fact, I begged my mum not to go,” he grinned.

Remus’ brow furrowed as he tried to sort through his emotions, which were entirely too complicated for an eleven-year-old boy. 

“I want to go,” he said truthfully. Remus was beyond excited for his classes and all the new things he would learn there--he knew his mum always did her best, but it was hard to compete with _Hogwarts_. He was also excited at the prospect of _having_ friends...it was just the idea of making them that he wound intimidating. 

“But I’m just--I’m also kinda scared,” Remus admitted, meeting his father’s eyes.

Lyall smiled sympathetically. “Everyone’s a little scared.”

Just then he heard the noise of open sobbing distinct from the normal bustle of the station. Lyall turned, expecting it to be a child, but was surprised to find that the noise was emitting from a small woman with very tight curls. She was gripping her blonde, overweight son as if he were going off to war.

Lyall looked back at Remus and grinned, “See, _everyone_ is a little nervous,” he sniggered.

He turned back to look at the son who looked miserable as he was being suffocated by his mother.

Lyall and Remus could hear the boy consoling his mother: “It’s going to be fine, mum…I promise I wont get in any potentially fatal situations...” 

“It looks like that boy could use a friend,” Lyall said to Remus with a pointed look.

Remus watched the scene in front of him, chewing on his lip contemplatively as he listened to his father.

“I’m not far from that,” Hope admitted, resting a hand on Remus’ shoulder. He looked up at her, and she smiled.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, Remus approached the blonde boy who’d just managed to break from his mother. “Hi!” he squeaked, having never heard his voice go that high before. “Er--I’m Remus--I was just wondering--are you going to be a first year?” he asked all in one breath.

Peter turned toward Remus and beamed, exalted. Mrs. Pettigrew, however, surveyed Remus and his smiling parents with scrutiny. 

“Yes, Peter is a first year,” Mrs. Pettigrew answered for Peter, eyeing Remus.

“My name’s Peter!” Peter clarified. “Have you anyone to sit with on the train? I made a friend in Diagon alley whose a first year just like us two but I haven’t spotted him.”

Remus paused--he hadn’t really thought about who he would sit with on the train, he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that this was all really happening. 

“No...I haven’t, maybe--would you like to?” he asked nervously, but then Peter turned away to scan his surroundings, looking for James. 

Locating anyone proved to be next to impossible with all the commotion and movement in such a small space. In all honesty, Peter couldn’t entirely recall what James looked like. But he did have black hair and glasses, Peter remembered that.

He spotted a young boy with black hair standing a bit closer to the groaning train. 

“I reckon that’s him!” Peter declared, grabbing Remus by the sleeve and furiously made his way through crowds of families towards the boy. His aggressive efforts caused three stubbed toes, one cat hiss and several discontented grumbles from parents and students alike.

Finally they reached the boy. His back was to them and so Peter reached up to prod him repeatedly on the shoulder with his finger. Peter noted that he was already wearing his Hogwarts robes.

The boy turned and Peter recognized that although this boy did have black hair he was missing the glasses. He looked at Peter with irritation as if he’d just been having a row with someone. His grey eyes had such a sharp look about them that Peter nearly forgot why he was there.

“Er...James Potter?” Peter asked, figuring he had made it this far.

The boy’s irritated look softened, clearly familiar with the name. Before he could open his mouth to speak a towering black shadow stepped between Peter and the boy. Peter glanced over at Remus, wondering if he too had just been swallowed by darkness.

And then the darkness spoke: “ _My son_ does not know any Potters. And he will not be knowing any gelatinous swine or grubby destitutes either...”

Remus blinked a few times, confused--was he the grubby destitute one? 

Peter clenched his eyes shut as the woman spoke and grabbed Remus’ hand. 

“That’s not James,” he explained to Remus.

 _”Mum, piss off!_ The boy hissed from behind.

“...And if I find out that either of you so much as approach _my son_ I will have both of you _permanently_ removed from Hogwarts.”

Peter gasped at this and opened one eye to look over at Remus.

“Do you think that means she’ll kill us?” He asked, not very quietly.

“I don’t think we should stick around and wait to find out,” Remus said in an undertone, very pale now and shaken by the whole encounter.

 _“OFF WITH YOU.”_ The dark woman screeched. Peter sprang into action, grabbing Remus once more by the wrist and running towards the train. He was about to open the door and hop in when he heard his mother’s voice:

“PEACHES, WAIT!” she bellowed desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

Peter turned back, panting, and waved at his mother.

“Bye, mum! I love you more than goblins love gold and owls love mice!”

The Lupins trailed behind Mrs. Pettigrew; the looks of apprehension on their faces matched their son’s as the blonde boy pulled him ever closer towards the train.

As if all three had resigned themselves to the fact that prolonging this would only make it more difficult--and more likely that they would miss the train--Remus offered a small smile that his parents returned. 

“Have a good term, son, we love you,” Lyall said.

“Write as soon as soon as you get there!” Hope beseeched, “And...make good friends.”

Remus cleared his throat to keep his voice from cracking, “I will, bye!” he said, and with a cry of the last warning whistle, Remus followed Peter onto the train.

~~*~~

The trains aged wheels began to churn as it slowly exited the platform, sending Peter crashing into one of the car doors before he fell to the floor. The compartment door Peter smashed into slowly slid open, revealing a tall older boy with long, pale blonde-white hair. A gleaming prefects badge was proudly displayed on his robes. He stared down at Remus and Peter with a glacial sneer.

“This one’s taken. By the looks of it he will need a compartment all to himself,” he said, his gaze lingering on Peter for a moment before the door slammed shut in their face.

Peter frowned from the floor, being helped up by Remus.

“So far no one at Hogwarts seems real nice,” he said, his expression doleful as he and Remus carefully walked further down the train.

“Well, except for you!” he perked up. “What’s your name again? Ralph?”

Remus was feeling profoundly nervous by the hostility, and even this connection to Peter felt tenuous...what if he found out what Remus really was? But Remus was just here to learn, he resolved...on the other hand, his mum had told him to make friends, and he wanted them.

Trying to fix his face into a smile, Remus corrected, “It's Remus, actually. Like from the legend of how Rome was founded?” he offered, “Remus and Romulus?”

“Right…” Peter replied vapidly.

Remus made a note that ancient Roman mythology was--apparently--not exactly a conversation starter. 

Peter glanced into a nearby compartment to ensure that it was empty of contemptuous upper-years.

“This one’s empty!” he declared with relief, sliding open the door. Peter settled himself onto one of the cushioned seats by the window, leaving his truck to take up most of the narrow floor space.

“Have you got any snacks?” Peter asked Remus hopefully. “I ate all mine on the trip over to Kings Cross. I’ve never really been outside me town before all this.”

“Oh, yes,” Remus said, digging into the front of his trunk and pulling out a bar of chocolate, which he offered to Peter. “I haven’t traveled much either,” Remus admitted, “Except for a few trips with my parents.”

Peter’s eyes became as round and wide as two galleons when his eyes fell on the chocolate bar. He snatched it from Remus and inhaled it, leaving greasy chocolate stains on his face and sticky fingers.

“Yeah I agree,” Peter replied, having been too mentally and emotionally involved with his snack to listen to Remus.

Remus frowned--both at the incongruent response and the fact that he hadn’t meant to offer the _whole_ chocolate bar.  
Still, at least he had someone to sit with.

Just then, the compartment door banged open, revealing the not-James boy whose mother is basically a dementor. Sirius quickly surveyed the two boys, his face cracking into a grin when he saw Peter.

“Hello, Peaches,” he greeted Peter with a half-smirk, leaning casually against the doorway.

“Oye!” He called out over his shoulder. “Found one!”

James followed after Sirius, still somewhat flustered at getting yelled at by the redheaded girl. 

Upon entering the compartment, a look of recognition settled over his face as his eyes landed on Peter.

“Oh, hey!” James said by way of greeting, “We met at the Quidditch store, yeah?” 

Peter was so bemused by this rapid intrusion that he didn’t recognize James until he finished speaking.

“Wha--Oh! James!” he cried out, throwing up his hands. He then leaned over and poked Remus across from him. “It’s _him_.” he explained.

Remus flinched slightly at the poke, and looked bewilderedly over at James, trying to discern what was so special about him.

Sirius kicked Peter’s obstructing trunk out of his way and shoved Peter over so that he could have the window seat. He flopped down onto the cushion and kicked his polished leather shoes onto the seat across from him, right next to Remus

“Got yourself a fanboy already,” he sniggered to James. A dark glint in his eye matched his smirk. 

“Am not! Me and James are _friends!_ ” Peter protested, but his courage shriveled up once he met Sirius’ gaze. Everything about him was intimidating. He scooted further down the seat so that there was a space between him and Sirius for James. 

“...Right, James?” he squeaked meekly, turning to look at him.

James’ lips curled up into a look of amusement--he could have teased him for that, and he reckoned he would have gotten a laugh out of Sirius, which, for some reason, he relished the thought of. Still...James gave in to a nagging part of him that said to go easy on this kid; he had suggested they could be friend at Diagon.

“That’s right,” James said, nonetheless with a bit of swagger as he sat next to Sirius. “And it was...errr...Paul?” he asked, genuinely forgetting.

Peter briefly considered not correcting James. Instead he worked up his nerve to mumble his actual name inaudibly under his breath while his eyes were fixed on his trainers.

“Sorry?” James said.

Sirius scoffed at Peter’s timidity and rolled his eyes dramatically. Peter bored him already.

“I’m Sirius Black,” he said boldly and without hesitation. 

Peter’s eyes widened at Sirius’ surname. No wonder he and his mother were so scary. His mother would definitely not want him sitting with someone from the Black family.

“What about you?” Sirius asked Remus pointedly, nudging his shoe into Remus’ leg.

“You got the tongue-tying curse or something?” he added, raising his brow.

“Oh...uh...er...no,” Remus said nervously, not much better than Peter, “Er...it’s Remus. Remus Lupin,” he clarified.

“James Potter,” James said, with considerably greater eased as he lounged in the seat beside Sirius. 

Sirius had already decided that he wasn’t interested in Peter but the jury was still out on this other scrawny kid. He removed his feet from the cushion and leaned his elbows forward on his knees so that he was closer to Remus.

Then, while giving Remus an unwavering stare he said:

_“They try to beat me, they try in vain. And when I win, I end the pain. What am I?”_

Remus swallowed hard when Sirius leaned in close with that penetrating stare, but he didn’t flinch--Remus didn’t scare very easily, despite a nearly constant undercurrent of nerves. 

Chewing on his lip for a moment, brow slightly furrowed, Remus concluded after a beat, “Death.”

Sirius continued to stare at Remus for a few long moments after he had answered, then half-smiled and sat back, satisfied.

Peter glanced nervously from Remus to Sirius to James. He wanted to make sure that he was a permanent member of this group.

“Er..So which house do you all think yo--”

“I’m sick of this bloody question,” Sirius interrupted, “It’s boring. Let’s talk about what we’ll do when the castle goes to sleep.”

He looked at the three boys excitedly with a toothy grin. “I hear there’s a forbidden forest. What do you think they’ve got in there to make it so off limits?”

“I bet it's…” James trailed off, pausing for dramatic effect, “... _werewolves_ ,” he finished, his voice taking on a spooky tone, and even if he suspected he shouldn’t get amusement out of it, he couldn’t help but smirk at the little squeak of a cry that Peter let out. 

Glancing at Remus then to see if he shared in his amusement, James saw that he, too, had turned pale white, staring at James with a look of deep apprehension.

“Ah, lighten up, what do _I_ know?” James reasoned. “Whatever it is, I’m sure Dumbledore can handle it anyway,” he shrugged, then considered Sirius’ question some more, “Besides...I don’t think you need to go all the way to the forest after hours anyway. There’s loads of stuff _inside_ the castle, just begging to be explored. My dad told me a couple of stories…” he said vaguely, thinking of the invisibility cloak, but not sure if he should confide in them about its existence. Even James understood how valuable it was.

“Well, i’m in,” Sirius replied eagerly. 

“And you lot?” he asked, looking from Peter to Remus expectantly.

Peter was slumped over in his seat, looking utterly miserable as he actively avoided Sirius’ gaze. Being James’ friend was proving to be rather stressful thus far. He couldn’t say no and disappoint James, obviously. And besides, how bad could the castle be, really. _Children_ lived there, after all.

Without looking up he shrugged. He was sure they would soon forget all about this unsavory business.

Remus was just glad they weren’t talking about werewolves anymore...plus, exploring the classroom did sound fun, he’d read a lot of legends himself, and Remus never imagined he’d get to actually _be there_ and explore them.

“I’m in,” he said swiftly.

~~*~~


	6. The Sorting Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter stood in line, waiting his turn to be called to the sorting hat. It had been taking a rather long time, he thought, and he did wish that they could have started with the feast. He had been deep in his fantasy of how comfortable his new bed would be when a boy with greasy black hair and a hooked nose poked him quite hard on the shoulder.
> 
> “I do believe that your name has been called three times,” he sneered.
> 
> Peter blinked rapidly, turning his attention to a flustered looking Minerva McGonagall.
> 
> “For the last time… _Pettigrew, Peter_ ,” she droned.
> 
> “Err… that’s me!” Peter squeaked, which subsequently led to scattered laughter throughout the hall.
> 
> Peter jogged over to the hat and accidentally knocked it and the stool it sat upon over onto the floor when he went to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The laughter grew louder.

~~*~~

Sirius had become lost in the swirling midnight blues and blacks of the bewitched night sky of the Great Hall. The rain that had let up since their boat voyage across the lake and Sirius could now spot several constellations in the magical sky. He grinned when he found his namesake star.

“Black, Sirius!”

Sirius’ attention snapped downward, first towards Professor McGonagall who had shouted his name and then outward to the sea of silent black-robed students who were all watching the sorting ceremony. He automatically stepped forward, observing all eyes shift to him in an unaffected way. Some whispers followed him as he confidently approached the dilapidated sorting hat.

He then lifted up the hat and took a seat on the bench. Just before he lowered it over his head he caught sight of Narcissa. He winked at her swiftly with a wry smile before letting the inside of the hat consume his vision.

“Ah, another Black..” a small voice in his head began to say.

 _It’s Sirius, actually_ Sirius corrected.

“Right you are,” chuckled the hat. “Not entirely like your family, are you?”

_You could say that_

“The Black cleverness is there, indubitably. And skill, certainly. Temper, absolutely.”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“But there’s something else...Oh yes, it’s overwhelmingly potent…”

_Get on with it._

“Courage--An astounding degree, in fact . And loyalty, too. Unbridled loyalty. Yes, the choice is rather obvious, isn’t it. Rather obvious indeed. Really, there is no contest at all…”

“GRYFFINDOR.”

Sirius removed the hat from his head. He felt a bit bemused, looking around the vast room filled with weak clapping. His gaze found the Slytherin table, which was as silent as death. His cousin’s expression was a mixture of shock, devastation, and humiliation. Sirius grinned.

He turned around and flashed James, Remus and Peter a beaming smile before heading over to the Gryffindor table to take the first open seat on the bench.

Remus nervously caught Sirius’ eye, a faint buzzing ringing through his ears as his anxiety mounted. He hadn’t imagined that he would be sorted in front of so many _people_ \--in fact, Remus hadn’t imagined that there would be so many people at all, but the Great Hall was filled with them, and everyone’s eyes were fixed on the sorting.

He did not relish the thought of all those eyes on him.

“Lupin, Remus!” Professor McGonagall called, and Remus gave a start. Hesitantly, Remus approached the sorting hat, feeling queasy at the idea that this hat--according to legend--would be able to peer into all his secrets...Remus could only hope it wouldn’t share any of them.

And yet, Remus found the nerve to move forward and say himself on the stool.

“Ahhh, what do we have here?” the hat in toned inside Remus’ head. “A natural love for learning...and intelligence to match--good qualities for a Ravenclaw.”

Remus felt a rush of excitement--he _had_ always liked the idea of Ravenclaw.

“But there’s something else in there, isn’t there?” The elation swiftly turned to dread--Remus didn’t want the hat looking anymore closely than was necessary. “Yes….courage. It takes a lot of courage for you just to be here, doesn’t it? And it will take even greater courage yet for you to thrive at Hogwarts. Better make it….GRYFFINDOR!” the hat called out.

Remus was stunned; never, in all of his research into the Hogwarts houses did he ever think of himself as a Gryffindor. Fear had always been such a regular part of his life that not once had Remus ever considered himself brave.

Sliding into the seat next to Sirius, Remus was greeted by much warmer applause than Sirius. 

“Why did they seem so surprised at your sorting?” Remus asked Sirius curiously, before he could stop himself.

Sirius turned to Remus with an ecstatic grin. “Well, I’ve just broken a timeless tradition of Blacks becoming Slytherin rulers of the underworld. My mother will be devastated. I’ve never been happier in all my life.” he then turned towards the Slytherin table and waggled his fingers at his sullen-faced cousin.

~~*~~

The sorting ceremony continued and the Gryffindor table grew as Mary Macdonald and Marlene McKinnon joined Remus, Sirius and Lily. Mary, a round-faced girl with wild curly hair immediately squeezed in between Sirius and Lily, and would giggle with overenthusiasm at anything Sirius said. Marlene, a small girl who had her thick blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail was more interested in talking about the Banchory Bangers Quidditch team with the older students than anything else.

Peter stood in line, waiting his turn to be called to the sorting hat. It had been taking a rather long time, he thought, and he did wish that they could have started with the feast. He had been deep in his fantasy of how comfortable his new bed would be when a boy with greasy black hair and a hooked nose poked him quite hard on the shoulder.

“I do believe that your name has been called three times,” he sneered.

Peter blinked rapidly, turning his attention to a flustered looking Minerva McGonagall.

“For the last time… _Pettigrew, Peter_ ,” she droned.

“Err… that’s me!” Peter squeaked, which subsequently led to scattered laughter throughout the hall.

Peter jogged over to the hat and accidentally knocked it and the stool it sat upon over onto the floor when he went to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The laughter grew louder.

Peter swallowed hard and looked back at James for encouragement. James gave him a small nod of encouragement which was more than enough to lift Peter's spirits. With that, he flopped onto the stool and buried his head in the hat.

The hat stayed silent for several long moments as Peter sat in darkness. 

“...Well now…” it finally began, clearly uncomfortable.

“...Yes, well...here we are,” it continued.

“Please put me in Gryffindor!” Peter whispered aloud.

“Gryffindor?” the hat asked with confusion. “Why Gryffindor?”

“....Well, I’m brave and strong…and loyal” Peter lied.

“Are you now?...”

“Yes! I have brand new friends and they’re all in Gryffindor and I love them very much and am brave with them!”

“Yes, I suppose that first bit _could_ be true…to some extent” the hat mused. 

A long stretch of silence ensued. Peter sat with his hands clasped in prayer.

“Please, please, _pleaaaaase_ , Mr. Sorting hat. I’ve never had friends!” Peter pleaded.

“I won’t lie, dear boy, I’m currently leaning towards Slytherin…But even that...” the hat replied, seeming entirely unsure of itself. 

“James Potter is my best friend and I love him and I know he’ll be in Gry--”

“Quiet, boy!” barked the Hat. “I need a think!”

The awkward silence continued for nearly over five minutes. At first the Great Hall was so silent that you could hear a pin drop, but after a few minutes the crowd was beginning to become restless. Groans of hunger could be heard throughout.

All the while, Peter kept his hands clasped in prayer the entire time, imagining himself in Gryffindor with his friends to help the hat along.

Finally, after basically an eternity, the hat emitted a long exasperated sigh.

“You love your friends, do you?”

“YES! More than anything. Sincerely, I swear! I swear on my whole life!” Peter explained.

“...Right, right. There it is….inside your head. I see it now…absolutely…”

“GRYFFINDOR..” the hat emitted, sounding confident and completely sure of its decision.

Peter screamed with joy, threw the hat to the floor and skipped over to the Gryffindor table.

Lips pursed, McGonagall picked up the sorting hat, glaring in Peter’s wake.

With a huff, she glanced back down at the list and called, “Potter, James!” 

Upon hearing his name, James sauntered up to the sorting hat, oozing confidence with a self-assured grin set across his face. As he situated himself on the stool, McGonagall had barely lowered the hat on his untidy head before it cried out.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Beaming, James bounced off to the Gryffindor table to raucous applause. There was one person who was not cheering, though; Lily Evans sat with her arms crossed, scowling at James as he passed. He, in turn, stuck his tongue out at her before sliding in next to Sirius and across from Remus and Peter with an ease as though he had done this a hundred times before.

“What were the odds, huh?” James asked, looking pleased that they all ended up in the same place.

“It must be fate!” Peter replied quickly with a nervous smile.

“Oh, yeah. We must _belong together_ ,” Sirius sniggered, eyeing Peter. 

He turned back to James, his face cracking into a beaming grin. 

“But, honestly, this is gonna be wicked,” he said excitedly, looking amongst the three of them.

They all watched the remainder of the sorting. The greasy, hooked-nose boy was last to be sorted. The hat announced that Severus Snape (the snivelly boy’s name, apparently) was to be in Slytherin. Sirius and James exchanged grins as he walked passed the Gryffindor table.

“OYE, what’s it like to have a nose bigger than your knob?” Sirius shouted to Snape, shooting James a smirk.

James let out a booming laugh as he got a closer look at that Snape’s kid nose--it _was_ big. “Looks like a hook!” he remarked. Across from him, Remus smiled in a vague, uncertain way.

Lily, however, was glaring daggers at Sirius, her head snapping in his direction at the outburst. She was already sick with disappointment that Severus had been sorted into the same house as her, and this wasn’t helping.

“ _Excuse_ you,” Lily shot at Sirius and James.

“Oh, _you_ again,” James smirked.

Snape merely glared stonily at Sirius and James. His eyes softened with sadness when they fell on Lily. He then continued to walk past them with his hooked-knob nose up in the air.

“Attention please, I have a public safety announcement,” Sirius stood up and announced to the Great Hall. “Make sure no one walks too close to Snively over there!” He shouted with his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. “You might get sucked into his nostrils!”

Laughter could be heard scattered throughout the hall. Sirius watched with satisfaction as Snape’s fists tensed and quivered as he continued to walk.

“Nice one,” James snickered.

“ _What_ is your _problem_?” Lily snapped with vehemence, equally angered at Sirius’ taunt as she was by how he’d ignored her. “You don’t even know him,” sne sniffed, sparing a disgusted look for James, too.

“I can’t help myself,” Sirius explained with an amused smile. “My mum says I’m a barbaric miscreation. I was born like this.”

“She’s right,” Lily said fiercely, then turned her back aggressively to the boys, focusing instead on the girls who’d been sorted along with her--Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary.

“What’ve you got to say for yourself” Sirius asked James with a grin.

James stuck his tongue out at her back, then winked over at Sirius, “My mum says I’m trouble, but I think we’re just being honest here.” 

“Exactly! We're being transparent. Some might even say saint-like,” Sirius grinned at James.

Still grinning wickedly, James turned to Peter and Remus, “How about you two?”

“Errr……” was all Remus could managed. He’d never even had an opportunity to tease or be teased before, but he felt instinctively that he was much closer to the “be teased” side of things. Shrugging, he decided it was better to be honest than make a fool out of himself for trying to be something he wasn’t, “I’m just trying to get along with people.”

“Boring,” Sirius replied curtly then moved onto Peter.

Peter had been too distracted by starvation to attend to what transpired with Snape and the subsequent conversation. He blinked rapidly when he realized Sirius, James, and Remus’ eyes were on him and quickly stopped rubbing his stomach with his chubby hand.

“...I agree with James,” Peter replied with shifty eyes that avoided Sirius in particular.

“Of course you do,” Sirius said sardonically, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. It was clear that Peter was not a highly valued member of the group in Sirius’ eyes.

Remus, meanwhile, was beginning to expect he wasn’t very valued either--but then again, this could be going a lot worse. If that’s how Sirius reacted to Snape’s nose, he couldn’t imagine what he’d really of him if he knew what was below the surface.

Nervously, he grabbed a dinner roll, shoving a piece in his mouth so he had a reasonable excuse not to speak.

Grinning, James didn’t seem to mind Peter’s endorsement.

At the opposite side of Great Hall adjacent to the sorting hat, Professor Dumbledore attempted to secure the attention of the loquacious student body by standing and coughing loudly into his fist. His efforts went unnoticed, which didn’t particularly perturb him. 

Hagrid, however, was deeply perturbed. The colossal figure of a man with an equally impressive beard shot up so quickly from his enlarged wooden chair that he knocked poor professor Flitwick halfway down the long table where the Professors and staff sat.

“OYE, THE LOT OF YOU BETT’R QUIT YER CLUCKIN’ ‘N LOOK UP ‘ERE. Yer Headmaster is try’n’a speak! Show some respect, would ye!”

The entire Great Hall, including the four first year Gryffindor boys froze in place and turned their attention to the front of the hall.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at Hagrid’s outburst.

“Thank you, Hagrid. Your loyalty and dedication, as always, is profoundly moving. And now, Madame Pomfrey, if you would be so kind, please escort dear Professor Flitwick to the hospital wing. It appears that he has a fork lodged into his left ear.”

Madame Pomfrey swiftly jumped up and bent low to the ground then wrapped Professor Flitwick’s arm around her shoulders and led him out from the hall.

Dumbledore smiled then returned to the four house tables filled with students, all of whom appeared shocked and confused.

“I shall keep my words to a minimum as I am rather peckish and the steak and kidney pie is calling my name. It is my great honor to offer a warm welcome to all of our first years,”

Dumbledore sent Remus his own personal wink.

“And an equally warm welcome back to all other students. Before we begin our banquet it is my important duty to inform everyone of our newest beautiful yet deadly addition to our magical botanical collection here at Hogwarts. Our newest addition is the whomping willow, which is located at the center of the grounds. I warn all to avoid it at all costs, lest you receive a fatal beating from it which would leave you gravely disfigured at best.” 

Peter’s jaw dropped. He looked at James, Remus and Sirius with his mouth agape.

“He’s joking, isn’t he…?”

“I hope not!” Sirius grinned.

“Might have to take a look at that,” James said, arching an eyebrow at Sirius.

Sirius flashed James a devious sideways glance accompanied with a small smirk, indicating that he agreed with him completely.

Remus stared grimly at his plate, privy to the tree’s real purpose and already dreading its use.

“And now,” Dumbledore continued, not missing a beat, “We feast!”

It was hard to look grim, however, once the food magically appeared on the table. There were a few audible gasps up and down the table, and while those likely came from Muggleborn students, even James who had grown up with magic seemed in awe--though, that may have just been over the food selection.

James didn’t waste anytime, taking a helping of virtually everything before him and shoving large portions of it in his mouth with great speed.

“Sowhere’reyehllfrom?” James asked, mouth full of food.

“Oh, _gross_ ,” Lily scowled, turning her head pointedly away from the boys.

Remus couldn’t help but sympathize with the redhead girl, but answered with “Yorkshire.” 

Sirius sniggered at Lily’s display of disgust while he energetically dug his own spoon into the bowl of peppermint humbugs.

“I’m from London,” Sirius explained almost bitterly as his mind momentarily flicked to number 12 Grimmauld place.

Mary McDonald turned back toward Sirius so quickly that her giant curly whipped him in the face.

“I’ve been to London! With my mum and dad. We had a brilliant time!” She batted her eyelashes at him profusely.

“We’ve all been to London,” Sirius explained dully. “That’s where we got on the Hogwarts Express.”

The sparkle in Mary’s eye dimmed and she left the boys to return to Lily, Marlene and Dorcas with another swift turn of her head which once again smacked Sirius in the face. A little harder this time.

Lily had turned back to Sirius, however, her penetrating green eyes narrows into a most distasteful glare, “You don’t have to be so _rude_ ,” she told him, utterly fearless. 

James gaped at her, uncertain whether he was feeling anger at her reproach of Sirius--who he was fairly certain was becoming his best mate--or…..something else entirely.

Peter looked up from his explosion of a plate with his mouth filled with potatoes and chicken.

“Ifivfinfropsfriar,” Peter declared incomprehensibly, spraying Remus with chunks of food.

Though Remus wrinkled his nose in distaste, he carefully brushed the food off his beloved new school robes without complaint and continued to eat quietly.

“Where?” James asked, brow furrowed.

Peter was about to respond to James when he suddenly noticed a steaming bowl of bacon near Marlene. He grabbed the entire bowl and was then lost to the world.

“ _Anyway_ ,” James interjected, “ _I’m_ from Godric’s Hollow, so I reckon it only makes sense I was a Gryffindor after all,” he said, sounding rather pleased with himself. 

Lily, who couldn’t help but overhear James’ load, boastful tones, gave a snort and an eyeroll.

“Where are _you_ from then?” James asked, irritation at being mocked quickly overriding whatever that little flicker had been earlier.

“Cokeworth,” she said simply, her eyes barely meeting James’ in a clear sign that she had no desire to continue this conversation.

“Oh,” was all James could manage, utterly unfamiliar with the predominantly Muggle town.

~~*~~

After several more helpings of dinner, dessert, and a guest appearance from Nearly Headless Nick who had swooped dramatically down the table and made Peter shriek, the remnant food suddenly disappeared and the first years’ attention was commanded by a tall, impressive fifth year boy.

“Alright, you lot, my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I’m one of your Gryffindor prefects,” he told them, and though he smiled, a sharp, no-nonsense tone cut through his voice that signaled he was not to be trifled with by the likes of a first year. “If you need any help adjusting to the school, finding your classes, or any other problems, feel free to reach out to me anytime,” he told them, a bit more warmly this time. “I’ll be leading you up to the Common Room, so if you all would follow me,” he gestured with his hand.

The boys clambered from the bench lethargically, all of them sleepy from the obscene amount of food they had just consumed. Peter needed to be pulled out from the bench by poor Remus.

They followed Kingsley through the castle, James and Sirius hardly noticed a single word he uttered while they excitedly observed the magical staircases, giggling portraits, and a ragged-looking cat that followed them through the shadows as they walked. Kingsley stopped to point out several of his favorite suits of armor and elegant tapestries on the way. Remus’ nerves and anxiety gave way to excitement, too, overwhelmed by an acute sense of place and how he was actually _here_ , seeing all the things he had read and heard so much about. He couldn’t contain a broad smile, that was matched by the other boys in his year as they exchanged looks.

Kingsley finally brought them to face a giant portrait of a fat lady.

Sirius scrutinized the portrait of the snoring woman, disinterest quickly descending upon him.

“And here we have a sleeping cow. What a gem of a painting,” he sneered. “Can we get on with this art history lesson? I’m over it.”

“Why, I _never_!” the Fat Lady jerked suddenly awake, her voice shrill and highfalutin; her expression softened as it landed on polite, handsome Kingsley. “Surely, Mr. Shacklebolt, there must have been a mistake with _this one_ ,” she sneered at Sirius. “In _my_ time, a chivalrous nature was an essential Gryffindor trait, I would never imagine a Gryffindor boy would speak to a _lady_ such as myself in such a fashion,” she preened.

Kinglsey only smiled and shrugged, “Sorry, ma’am, hat’s orders,” he said.

The Fat Lady harrumphed, looking down her nose at Sirius, who flashed her a toothy smile.

“As I was saying,” Kinglsey continued, “The portrait opens by password, and your prefects will inform you when it changes, so it’s important that you remember them,” he said, casting a warning look down at Peter who he already suspected of being a bit slow. “The current password is Siba's Sunday Trifle.”

At his word, the Fat Lady swung open to reveal a rounded passageway that the first years crammed through, Kingsley still leading away. There were several ooooh’s and ahhhh’s scattered around as they took in the lavish accommodations. Lily could hardly believe this was a school at all, accustomed as she was to the more clinical and institutionalized style of the Cokeworth government schools.

The excited murmurings ceased as Kinglsey continued. “The first year boys’ dormitory is up the stairs to the right, and girls’ is too the left. Don’t even think about entering the girls’ dormitory, gentlemen, the stairs won’t hear of it,” he smirked.

Peter ran to catch up with the group in the common room, having been delayed after he tripped when climbing through the passageway. 

“Wha’d I miss?” he panted.

“Your room’s up that way,” Sirius explained, pointing to the girl’s staircase. Peter watched the girls walk towards the staircase with some confusion, then followed after them.

Sirius then turned to James and eyed him excitedly.

“Race you to the dorm?” He asked with a grin.

James nodded eagerly, a wicked grin alighting his own face as he heard Peter give a holler after taking a tumble down the stairs which turned into a slide once he step foot on them. Momentarily distracted, James had to run extra fast to catch up to Sirius. 

The boys pushed and shoved their way to the top, both claiming victory in a boisterous, good-humored argument.

Remus and Peter joined a few minutes after, Remus having stayed behind to help a befuddled Peter off the ground and into the correct dormitory. Peter was either too scared of James and Sirius to tell them off or too happy to see his bed, as he charged for the place that had his things and collapsed onto it still fully clothed with a contented sigh as the bed groaned underneath him.

Quietly, Remus made his way to his own things, carefully checking his trunk for his professions and removing a framed photo of himself and his parents, placing it on his nightstand. James, meanwhile, was busy positioning his Falmouth Falcons poster.

Sirius climbed up onto his four poster bed adjacent to James’ and began to jump all over it, testing out its springiness. His robes bounces along with him.

“These beds wouldn’t fit a toddler,” Sirius declared. 

He then leapt from his bed onto James’, his robes flapping out behind him like a cape. He then commenced jumping on James bed to compare bouncing potential. After sufficient testing, Sirius kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged on James’ bed.

“Did you notice that cat following us in the corridors?” he asked James, still panting from his recent physical activity.

James grinned widely, joining Sirius for several jumps, then plopping down beside him on the opposite side of the bed.

Thinking for a moment, James nodded. “Mangy thing, wasn’t it?” he asked. “I felt like it was trying to get our scent or something...do cats do that?”

“Dunno,” Sirius replied eagerly, “I don’t know much about cats. But it was definitely watching us. I think we should follow it. Maybe it has like ways to report us or something.”

“Do you think it could be an animagus?” Remus asked, his curiosity peaked.

Sirius spun around to look at Remus laying in his bed across from James’

“I hope so! I’ve never met one before.”

“No, me neither,” Remus mused. “I hope it’s not a professor in disguise.”

“That would definitely be shit,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “But we’re going after it anyway,” he concluded.

~~*~~


End file.
